


we must wake up again (to the new morning)

by HotFuckingMess (moonchild734)



Series: exo greek mythology au [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, hope this isn't too cringy, oooof, rated explicit just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonchild734/pseuds/HotFuckingMess
Summary: She shoved her hands into her pockets, gritting her teeth against the rain as she trudged her way up the muddy path. She gasped silently, foot missing a step as she fell to her knees into a puddle. She cursed quietly, shakily standing back up as she hefted her backpack up against her back. ‘I swear to fucking God if he didn't buy the fucking groceries, I’m gonna hide all his whiskey.’ She scoffed, already knowing that he probably spent her hard earned money at the casino, or on more booze.





	we must wake up again (to the new morning)

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go again, starting another series when I already have multiple WIPs  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ YOLO I guess, eh?  
> But, I'm really gonna have some fun with this au, lol  
> This will be a member/OC so if that's not really your thing, you don't have to really read the installments focusing on that (although please give it a chance? who knows, you might like it!)  
> There will be member/member in the future, though so there's that!  
> anyway, see more notes at the end for the boards I made that inspired me for this series!  
> (because I'm a loser who doesn't know the meaning of 'self-control')

She shoved her hands into her pockets, gritting her teeth against the rain as she trudged her way up the muddy path. She gasped silently, foot missing a step as she fell to her knees into a puddle. She cursed quietly, shakily standing back up as she hefted her backpack up against her back. ‘ _I swear to fucking God if he didn't buy the fucking groceries, I’m gonna hide all his whiskey._ ’ She scoffed, already knowing that he probably spent her hard earned money at the casino, or on more booze.

She ignored the mud staining her jeans, wetness already seeping through the cheap denim as she continued on her way. The squelch of her boots and the constant roar of the wind were her only companions, mind focused on nothing but getting back to the shithole she called _home_. After what felt like hours, but was in reality mere minutes, she finally spotted the dark shape of her house. It only took her another minute before she made it to the door, glancing at to the side. She frowned, the fuzzy shape of a dirty old pick up truck sitting in the middle of the dirt driveway. ‘ _He must be home._ ’ She thought, opening the door to her house.

You couldn’t really call it a house, though. It was about the size of two classrooms pushed together. It had the bare minimum for two people living in it; a bathroom, kitchen, two rooms and a space in the middle of the entire place where the tv and a couch were placed. It was shitty, but it’d been like this ever since she was little. Although, it wasn’t as decrepit looking as it was now. ‘ _And rat infested._ ’ She thought, the squeaking and tiny footsteps of rats scattering as she kicked off her boots.

She blanched when her soggy socks came in contact with the floor. Shaking her head, she walked into the kitchen. She spotted half-crushed beer cans and the ends of cigarettes littering the counter, and inwardly seethed. She sneered in disgust, setting her sopping wet backpack on the ground before sliding her jacket off. Grabbing the trash bag tied to the handle of a nearby cabinet (because they didn’t have money to spare for a bin) she pushed all of the excess aluminum and cigarette butts into the bag, not caring that her shirt was being stained by left over drops of beer and ash. 

Tying the bag back to the cabinet, she opened the fridge. She was surprised to see it fully packed. Two gallons of milks, three cartons of eggs, a shit ton of fruit and vegetables, a six-pack of beer, orange soda and jello, and four loaves of bread were stuffed inside of their tiny fridge. It would’ve almost been comical how many things fit into the fridge, if it weren't so _odd_. Mouth gaping, she quietly closed the door. ‘ _What the actual fuck?_ ’ Curious, and incredibly wary, she opened the cupboard next to the fridge. There were name brand boxes of cereal, a box of cheese crackers, pop tarts, cookies, a box of fruit snacks and two bags of sugar.  
“Huh...Who the fuck did he steal from to get us all of this food?” She blurted, honest to God _shocked_ that they wouldn’t go hungry for the week, hell, for the whole _month_!

Her father was a horrible person, if she was being completely honest. He was an alcoholic, chronic gambler, and someone who couldn’t hold down a job for more than three days. He was lazy, selfish and either was a violent and angry, or clingy and whiny drunk (which was often). It was hell living in the same house with him, especially since she’s had to try and move on from all of the shit he’s put her through...all of the shit he's _let_ other people do. ‘ _I fucking hate his guts. Sometimes, I wish he would choke on his vomit when he passes out after a drinking binge, or get hit by a car after walking home from the casino. Sometimes, I even think of locking him out of the house during winter, leaving him helpless, cold, tired...weak to the pull of hypothermia. Is that...wrong of me? Dreaming, hoping for his death? After everything he’s done to me, turning his head away as I paid off his debts._ ’ She thought bitterly, rubbing the raised skin around her wrist as she stared at the discoloration. 

“....Whatever.” She grabbed her bag and jacket, plopping her still wet feet through the living room. She was still skeptical, but she would ask him about the food later on. Now, she just wanted a shower. 

The body laying haphazardly on the couch didn’t even stir when she stomped past, grating her nerves even further when she spotted a bottle of whiskey hanging loosely in his calloused fingers. She bit her tongue, shouldering her bag and using her wet hair to cover her face. She curled her lip in disgust, fingering a loose brown curl while throwing her bag on her floor. She sniffed her hair, recoiling back once getting a whiff. She sighed, flipping on her bedside lamp before closing the door.  
“I smell like wet dog…” She muttered, slipping her sopping wet clothes off. Shivering from the cold, she yanked her towel from off her chair and wrapped it around her body. The ratty old fabric itched at her skin, but it was one of the better towels, so she dealt with it. 

Digging through her drawer, she pulled out a wrinkly, long-sleeved grey shirt and a pair of black boxers. Buying boxer shorts made things less awkward when she was younger and needed clothes. (She cringes just remembering the mortifying trips to the store when her body started going through... _changes_.) She grew old enough to shop by herself, but she never quite let go of the habit, so now she really only wore boxers and her sports bra whenever she went out. It got her weird looks in the locker room and department store, but she’d learn to ignore the stares and just get her shit done.

After grabbing her deodorant and scrubbie, she surveyed her room. It was small, the bed having no frame and just resting on the floor. She kept it as clean as she could, but there were still days where bites and red marks covered her arms. She had a small dresser, the dark wood rickety and covered in tiny scratches. Some were made by her own hands when she was younger, others were from the various rats that scuttled through the walls at night. 

Seeing nothing she forgot, she quietly opened her door. She groaned under her breath at the loud squeak, but when hearing no movement, she sighed and crept out of her room. All the lights were off, but she always could see well, even in pitch black darkness. Even if she couldn’t, she could walk to the bathroom with her eyes closed; she’d made the same trip enough times to memorize the route.

**> <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><**

She fell back against her bed, wincing when something sharp dug into her spine. Grunting, she turned over, her damp hair sticking to her face as she peered at the object.  
“Oh.” She breathed, picking up the hard cover book. It was a book on myths and legends she stole-er, _acquired_ while digging in the lost and found. She sat up, pulling down the shirt when it slid up her body, exposing her thick thighs and the jagged white lines wrapped around her ankles. She huffed, but otherwise ignored the exposure as she leaned against her pillows.  
“I actually haven’t opened it yet, which is pretty weird.” She said, picking up the book. She had a bad habit of talking to herself, but who else could she talk to? She didn’t have a phone and honestly didn’t want to make friends with the petty girls and fuckboys at her school. Was everyone like that? Of course not, but she didn’t feel like (more like have enough balls to) putting herself out there. Besides, no one would approach her anyway. They all knew about her father and situation, and like the children they were, mocked and shit talked her about it.

“But who would lose a book like this? From what I checked, it’s brand new!” She scoffed, turning the book over in her hands. ‘ _It doesn’t even have a name on it either._ ’ She chewed on her bottom lip, grimacing when her teeth ran over a previous sore.  
“Probably one of the elite who can just buy another one.” She rolled her eyes, fingers going to open the cover, but pausing when something in her gut told her to stop. There was...an almost foreboding feeling as she stared at the book. Almost as if a storm was coming; like her life would be changed forever, one way or another. ‘ _Is it because of the book, or...or because of the food he suddenly had enough money to get?_ ’

She thinned her lips, fingers grasping tightly at the book. She glanced at the cracked digital clock on her dresser, groaning when she saw the time. ‘ _Did I really spend that much time in the shower?_ ’ She sighed, glancing at the book in her hands, the worn brown cover looking incredibly _old_ in her weak lamp light. She shivered, a chill going up her spine when the shadows against the book grew darker. She flinched, tossing the book onto the floor.  
“Well….whatever it is, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” She said quietly, still unnerved by the strange book. Her whole body was tense, but she still forced herself climb under her thin sheets. She unplugged her lamp, curling up on her side as she stared at her wall. She traced the peeling floral wallpaper with her eyes, the harsh rain beating against her windows a calming background noise as her body slowly relaxed. Her eyes fluttered shut, her conscious slipping into a dreamless sleep as the storm raged on, winds howling and rain pelting the outside with a vengeance. ‘ _It’s almost as if..as if someone was angry._ ’

**()[]()[]()[]()[]()[]()[]()[]()[]()**

“And what exactly are you telling me, Mr. Sampson?” He asked, eyebrow raised, ringed fingers lightly tapping out a rhythm on his desk. Mr. Sampson fidgeted, sweat glistening his receding hairline as he stuttered out a response. He jumped, the crack of thunder and the resounding lightning flash making him swallow thickly.  
“We..well. It appears that...that Mitchell Felson and...and his old friend, Ricardo Ortega have...have stolen over two hundred thousand dollars from...from the event last night.” Mr. Sampson flinched when the man in front of him slapped down two manila folders.

The first folder was marked ‘FELSON’ and showed a man in his late thirties with slicked back brown hair and dark blue eyes, white teeth gleaming as the photographer captured his photo. The next folder, marked ‘ORTEGA’ showed a mug shot. The man captured in the mug shot was around the same age as the man before, brown eyes bloodshot and droopy mouth pulled into a frown as his grubby fingers held onto the prison ID in his hands.

“Tell me, _Mr. Sampson_ , how Mr. Felson and his ex con friend stole my money? Tell me, how exactly did they get through security with guns, hm?” He sneered, dark eyes cold as he stood up from his chair.  
“Mr….Mr. Kim...I..I don’t know-” Mr. Sampson jerked, the chair he was sitting disappearing in a puff of smoke. He was suddenly floating in an inky blackness, arms and legs held captive by an invisible force as Mr. Kim materialized in front of him.  
“Mr...Mr. Kim?!”  
Except it didn’t look like the normal Mr. Kim, the Mr. Kim he saw everyday. The Mr. Kim he was used to had slicked back blonde hair, brown eyes and a warm and friendly smile that curled around the edges like a small kitten. His Mr. Kim wore business suits and expensive watches; wore his favorite thick, black glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Was the shortest out of all of his employees sitting at just 5’8. This Mr. Kim...this Mr. Kim was simply _godly_.

A golden circle of leaves sat neatly in his loose blonde hair; the delicate strands being long enough to brush gently against his high cheekbones as he floated before him. His usually warm eyes were now an electric yellow, dark brows furrowed angrily as his mouth pulled down into an angry frown. His hard, muscled body was tanned and slightly scared, a loose white tunic covering his torso. The deep v-neck showed off his thick pecs; two gold necklaces swaying gently hung from around his neck, one having a lightning bolt pendant and the other holding a storm cloud; sturdy legs were covered by matching loose pants, feet clad in black, open toed sandals. Thunder rumbled behind him, the previously white clouds now turning a dark grey. They swirled above Mr. Kim, anger and rage making his normally small appearance seem ten feet tall. Then, as if turning off a switch, all the fury vanished from his face. Instead, a dark grin was shot his way and the heavy aura of rage morphed into just a heavy presence; the air around Mr. Sampson now hard to breath in.

“You have lied to me for the last time now, mortal.” He said lightly, but his voice held a weight behind it, making Mr. Sampson feel terror he hasn’t felt since he was a young boy, afraid of the monsters in the dark.  
“I let your first discrepancy slide; fucking your secretary behind your wife’s back was not my concern.”  
Mr. Sampson choked, face turning an ugly shade of red as Mr. Kim continued, eyes steadily getting brighter and winds picking up in speed.  
“Your second one was more of a nuisance, but I was interested to see just _how_ exactly you got away with murdering your parents for the inheritance.” He smirked, lips a dark red as he raised his left arm high. A bright light shimmered above his arm, the outline of a large bird slowly turning into real flesh and bone right before his eyes.  
“Who knew the foolish human police would believe your sob story? That your brother was the greedy one in the family, and poisoned them to earn their estate and money. I guess it helped that he took his own life soon after their deaths, right? Made things more believable?” He said casually, stroking the large eagle resting on his forearm. The eagle shivered, it wings extending as it nuzzled into Mr. Kim’s palm. Mr. Sampson could only gape, the sight of the eagle making his skin crawl. 

It was a beautiful creature; wings a warm, golden brown, head and tail feathers a pure white; claws sharp and lethal looking, beak razor sharp and gleaming gold in the flashes of lighting. What scared him the most about the beast wasn’t its claws or beak. No, it was the pure white eyes staring at him hungrily that set him on edge, and made him struggle to hold his legs closed, lest he piss himself in front of these intimidating figures.

“I was willing to let you live. After all, it really wasn’t any of my business what you did out of office hours. Even if you did lie to me when I asked, I am nothing if not merciful.” Mr. Sampson inhaled, nearly screaming when he was suddenly face to face with Mr. Kim. He could feel the eagle land on his shoulder, the claws stabbing through his suit. He shivered when they gently scraped against his skin.  
“But then...then you just _had_ to let them in, didn’t you? Two of my employees are dead, Mr. Sampson. Three are critically injured and now my reputation has been hit.” He said lowly, finger lightly poking his chest, but Mr. Sampson wheezed; each poke feeling like electricity being directly shot into his lungs.  
“There’s just one tiny little question I have.” He asked, grinning largely. His eyes, however, were boiling with fury and energy sizzled around his body as the eagle on Mr. Sampson’s shoulder gripped his shoulder roughly, its claws piercing his flesh. He let out a scream, his flesh being singed as a jolt of lightning ran through his body.  
“ _Why did you let them in?_ ” He growled, smile still in place even as his voice took on a thunderous rumble, the eagle screeching out as lightning sparked from his eyes. Mr. Sampson was beyond terrified, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he shook his head back and forth.  
“I didn’t..I didn’t let the-” He screamed out in pain when another crackle of lightning went through his body, the lightning exiting his body through his foot. He blinked through his tears, hanging his head to look at his foot. He nearly vomited at what he saw; his entire foot was burnt charcoal black, parts of his toes missing and blood steadily dripping from the open wounds.  
“Don’t you dare lie to me, _mortal_. I am not a patient man, and my dear Drea is getting hungry.” He sneered, smile falling as his lip curled up, exposing bright white teeth. The eagle--Drea--let out a piercing cry, claws digging in deeper as the sound of wings flapping filtered through the air. Mr. Kim smiled, his eyes shifting from anger to fond as he shushed Drea.  
“See? She is getting antsy. I may not feel inclined to stop her from eating you if you do not tell the truth, human.” He murmured, eyes deadly as he raised a hand, Drea nuzzling into his fingers. Mr. Sampson gulped, sweat falling down his temple as his whole body ached. He struggled to speak, the pain too much for his body to handle. He took in a ragged breath, nearly puking from the stench of burned flesh and leather.  
“I…” He closed his eyes, tears falling as he babbled out his apologies.

“I’m so sorry, Mr...Mr. Kim! I...I just...my wife was filing for divorce and...I’m so sorry, sir! I just...I knew what was gonna happen and...and I needed the money! And since my girlfriend broke up with me…..I didn’t want to be lonely and...and they were offering such a pretty young girl-” He felt his airways constrict, eyes bulging as he tried to breathe.  
“Shut the fuck up you loathsome human _filth_.” He snarled, hand tightening on his throat as his eyes positively _glowed_ with an overwhelming amount of rage and disgust.  
“You nearly brought down my entire reputation for some worthless pocket change and a _woman_?!”  
Mr. Sampson opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His face was slowly turning purple and his fingers uselessly twitched as his sides, legs kicking as his whole body convulsed.  
“You don’t _deserve_ to be eaten by my pet. Too fucking _filthy_ for her. No, I have a better punishment for the likes of you.” He grinned viciously as a black portal opened up below, moans and screams echoing from its depths as Mr. Kim let go of his throat. He coughed, drawing in loud, ragged breaths as tears and snot ran down his face.  
“Have fun in the pits of Tartaros, _Sampson_.” He grinned, laughing at the flabbergasted look on his face.  
“I’m...going to hell?” Mr. Sampson asked dumbly, whimpering when Mr. Kim shot him a glare.  
“No you fucking _imbecile_!” He hissed angrily.  
“Tartaros. A desolate plane where only the unworthy are sent to be tormented for the rest of eternity. It is not hell, no matter what the main form of religion nowadays dictates.” He growled, lighting flaring up behind him, coating his body in shadow and making his glowing eyes all the more frightening.  
“That is where you will reside in for-.” Low growls interrupted him, annoyance flashing over his face for a moment before delight took its place.

“Oh my! Aren’t you special, Mr. Sampson! You get to be personally taken down by this lovely beast.” He purred, eyes glinting sadistically as Mr. Sampson looked down, actually pissing his pants when he caught sight of three growling dog heads, eyes like burning coals and bubbly white foam gathering around their mouths.  
“You’ll have an excellent time down there, Sampson. I even heard that they’ve added a new torture method!” He chirped, holding his arm out for Drea. The eagle flew off of his shoulder with a flourish, wings smacking Mr. Sampson in the face before settling on Mr. Kim’s arm, preening when her feathers were stroked. The dogs barked, the sound rattling Mr. Sampson’s head as he went cross eyed. He gagged, ears ringing, _throbbing_ in agony as everything else melted into white noise. He noticed Mr. Kim’s mouth moving, but he couldn’t hear a word. 

Suddenly, the invisible force holding his limbs together disappeared. He felt relief only for a split second before he was falling. He felt himself scream, felt the way his throat vibrated as he fell, but he could hear nothing; like everything was suddenly turned on mute. He felt jaws clamp around his injured foot, and he cried out. His limbs felt numb, unresponsive as he screamed out to the laughing man above him.  
‘What are you?!’ He moved his mouth to form the words, unsure if it even came out right. The simple name the man mouthed out struck him in the chest; chilling him to the bone as he was dragged into the underworld by a three-headed dog.  
‘ _Zeus._

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

“Dear brother, can you please tell me why the twins left like that? Why are they so excited? It’s too early for their constant noise.” Dionysus grumbled, eyes closed as he lazed on his couch. His black hair was curled, messily sticking up as his silk robe slid open to reveal a pale chest and dusky nipple. Zeus rolled his eyes, tossing a pillow at his head as he swept past.  
“I sent them to collect that human I told you about.” He said, leaning against his desk as he tossed the phone in his hand up and down.  
“Oh?” He hummed, lids slitting open in interest, eyes sparkling like rose gold.  
“Yes. He wasn’t the one I was really interested in. It was the other, Ortega he’s called.”  
Dionysus raised an eyebrow.  
“What makes him so intriguing?” His eyes glinted in curiosity, smile curling the corners of his lips into an impish grin, dimple denting his left cheek as his sleepy eyes blinked lazily. Zeus tossed the phone over.  
“Open it, and look at the girl.” He ordered, expression hard as he crossed his arms. Dionysus quirked a brow, but did as he was told. He swiped open the device, eyes raking over the girl captured in the picture.  
“Doesn’t she seem..familiar?” He pressed, lips thinned into a line as he watched his brother take in the photo.  
“She does seem achingly familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.” He mumbled, finger held to his chin thoughtfully.  
“I came up with the same conclusion. So, I’ll be dealing with Ortega personally.” He grunted, pushing himself off of his desk and heading for the door.  
“What connects this girl to Ortega?” He called out, lying back down as he watched his brother walk away.  
“Apparently, Ortega offered her up in exchange for entrance to my event.” Zeus snarled, fist clenching as sparks flickered over his black suit. Dionysus said nothing, closing his eyes and waving a hand.  
“What a pity, dear Brother. Have fun hunting mortals then.”  
Zeus snorted, shooting a cheeky grin at Dionysus even if he couldn’t see it.  
“Oh, I will.”

\-----------------

“What...the fuck?”  
He turned his head to the newcomer in the room, the girl from the photo. She was only wearing an oversized t-shirt, the ends reaching mid thigh. Her mismatched eyes were staring blankly at Ortega, body frigid and emotions strangely mute. He raised an eyebrow.  
“And who might you be?” He could feel Ortega struggle in his bonds, but with one wave of his hand, Ortega screamed and stopped fighting.

Her eyes turned to his, and he was surprised to see no fear in them. Only fascination and anger, but not directed towards him.  
“Are you the man he stole from?” She asked quietly, eyes glinting with intelligence and a little bit of... excitement? He was both puzzled and intrigued by her odd behavior.  
“...Yes, but how do you know that?”  
She smirked slightly, leaning against the wall. He caught sight of thin lines covering her ankles, but made no indication that he saw them.  
“There’s only a few reasons why my father is currently bound and gagged; he either stole from you and you want your shit back, or you’re from the Lotus Casino downtown and my father needs to pay his debts.” She said, listing the reasons with her fingers. Her sleeves rolled down and he saw the matching lines on her wrist. ‘ _What in the world happened to this girl? And father? Demeter surely wasn’t a she when he helped conceive her, right?_ ’ He bit back a frown, instead analyzing her appearance. Her skin was just as tan as Demeter's and lips just as plush. Her left eye was the same color: hazel with a ring of gold around the pupil and flecks of blue and green in the iris. ‘ _That is where their similarities end, however._ ’ Her body was petite, but her hips were large, as well as her bust. Her face still held some baby fat, as well as the rest of her body. Her right eye was a dark brown and her dark hair was extremely curly, falling just below her chin. ' _Our kids do resemble us to a degree, but it's like looking at a younger version of Demeter when he was a she. It's...a bit off putting._ ’

“You are a smart little girl, aren’t you.” He murmured, mind accepting that this girl was indeed a demigod. He saw more than felt her displeasure at being called ‘little girl’, but to her credit, she didn’t say anything about it; only twisted her lips in distaste.  
“He did in fact steal from me, but it seems like he already spent his share of the money.” He pointedly glanced around at the empty whiskey and rum bottles. She sighed, shrugging her shoulders.  
“He’s been like this ever since I was little and Mama died.” This time he did frown, looking at her in confusion.  
“Your mother is dead?”  
She breathed in, eyes turning misty as she nodded. “Yeah...died when I was three.”  
“What did she look like?”  
“Me, but taller, brown eyes and lighter skin than mine.” She said quietly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Zeus tsked.  
“I see.” He muttered, turning his attention back to Ortega. His eyes were grim and his features were tense with pain.

“Are you enjoying that? I do hope you are, I had thought of that type of lightning just for you.” He taunted, snapping his fingers. He felt immense satisfaction when Ortega flinched, trying to swallow back his scream as his eyes closed.  
“Lightning?”  
He looked at her from the corner of his eye, her face screaming astonishment.  
“Yes. _Current_ ly, I have my lightning running through his body.” He grinned.  
“Did you get it, _current_ ly?” He threw his head back and cackled, hearing a snort come from the girl as well as feel faint amusement from his joke.  
“Electricity jokes, classy.” She murmured, but her mirth only lasted a moment before her eyes widened.  
“Wait, _electricity_?”  
He sighed. “Yes, I did say my lightning was running through his body.”  
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” She frowned, rubbing her chin as she pushed herself up from the wall.  
“You can’t just harness lightning and run it through a person’s body with just a snap of your fingers? That’s impossible!” She whispered, staring at him before pacing back and forth. He rolled his eyes. ‘ _I can’t stand giving the whole ‘I’m a god’ speech._ ’  
“It isn’t, and I’ll gladly explain it too after I finish my business with Ortega here.” She stopped pacing.

“...You gonna kill him?” He narrowed his eyes, feeling a muted sadness before it disappeared completely.  
“Yes, and his soul will be sent to the deepest pits of Tartaros.” She jumped, shooting him a wide eyed look.  
“Like...the Underworld ruled by the god Hades…?” She trailed off. He could practically hear the gears in her head moving, eyes flickering back and forth between himself and Ortega before they settled on Zeus. After another moment, she breathed in shakily, eyes widening when everything seemed to click in her mind.  
“Holy shit…” She mumbled, looking at him with a different glint in her eyes. Not fear, she still hasn’t shown even an ounce of fear yet, which was incredibly odd for someone unfamiliar with gods and monsters. No, it was more like..awe. ' _How...peculiar._ ’  
“Well, it looks like I won’t have to explain who I am.” He said, feeling incredibly pleased by the thought. He really hated giving that speech.  
“...No, but you’ll definitely need to explain why the god of the sky is in my shitty as living room torturing my father.” She said, eyes carefully blank as she lowered herself onto the couch, sitting right in front of Ortega, who was looking up with fear filled eyes.  
“You keep throwing around that name; father.” He smirked, snapping his finger again. Ortega couldn’t hold in his scream, falling to the floor and writhing in pain as a faint burning filed the air. Steam was coming off his skin and his face was slowly turning a bright pink.  
“Well, he is, isn’t he?” She asked, but there was a bit of uncertainty coloring her voice.  
“Not quite.” He said, eyes peeling away from the slowly dying man on the floor.

“But, I do know who helped conceive you.” He murmured, sitting down on the couch next to her.  
“Why...why did you say like that?”  
His lips quirked up in a half smile.  
“You’ll know soon enough, but first..” He held out his hand, smiling mischievously.  
“I am the lord of the skies, god of thunder, Zeus. But, you may also refer to me by my human name, Kim Jongdae.”  
She shook his hand firmly, jolting when he let a string of lightning go in their handshake.  
She huffed, shaking her head. “Nice to meet you, Jongdae. I'm Lucille Ortega.” she smiled lightly, before her face twisted up into a mix between confusion and irritation.

“Now that introductions are finished, can you please tell me _what the fuck is going on?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, how was it?  
> Do you like Lucille so far?  
> Was the pacing off?  
> Were the descriptions too little? Too much?  
> Comments about this would be extremely appreciated, as well as kudos!
> 
> The moodboard references can be found [here](https://moonchild9400.tumblr.com/tagged/exo-greek-gods)
> 
> and I am well aware that the boards are spoilers for the other ten gods, but not everyone reads the ending notes so...¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
